


The Defenders

by TearsIMustConceal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Community: HPFT, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6477562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsIMustConceal/pseuds/TearsIMustConceal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Order, came The Defenders</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

 

1870  
Victorian London

 

The gloomy London air was, for once, perfectly matched with the mood that fell upon St Paul’s Church in Knightsbridge. Gentlemen and women huddled together outside, umbrellas shielding them from the light spray of rain. All dressed in black, giving outsiders an insight into the private ceremony that was about to occur in the confinements of the beautiful, recently built church.

 

Inside, gatherers were all seated, ready to say their goodbyes to the late Milton Manville, a well respected man in the community. However, instead of the customary black that was worn to funerals, the pews were filled with purples and greens, only a seldom few black outfits littering the crowd. Those dressed in the traditional way were clearly quite confused at the colour scheme, judging by the looks and whispering behind hands that the women were doing. However, they were only ones who reacted, those dressed in the purples and greens batted no eyelids. And this was because, unbeknownst to the muggles dressed in black, Milton Manville had been a wizard.

 

Creator of the Undetectable Extension Charm, Mr Manville was celebrated in his field and his community. A prominent man in society, both wizarding and muggle, he was known for his kind and gentle ways and bad jokes that always got a laugh. The turnout of his funeral was expected to many but for his only granddaughter, it was quite the shock to see so many people gathered together. The young woman knew her grandfather was well liked and well respected amongst his peers but the volume of people in the muggle church was beyond anything she could have imagined.

 

Miss Clara Manville sat alone at the front of the church, no other family by her side, her last living relation in England resting in the polished black coffin in front of the altar. As not to alarm the muggles she had lived amongst for so long, she was wearing black, a smart dress and veil over her face as she stared straight ahead, her eyes seeing nothing but her ears hearing everything going on around her. Her grandfather’s death had not come as a shock but it was unwelcomed and hurtful all the same. He had died of a bad chest, something even wizarding potions could not seem to cure. She was now an orphan and was to face the rest of her life on her own, unless she found a husband.

 

It was funny how muggle traditions had found their way into wizarding culture but marrying young and for wealth was now expected of young witches, regardless whether they had their own fortunes or not. Clara had already had three offers of marriage but her grandfather had managed to help her in turning them down without giving offence. But now he was gone, it was likely she would be expected to accept the hand of the next man who asked her and it was something she was not looking forward to.

 

As the congregation around her settled into their seats and quietened down, Clara knew it was time to say her final farewell to her dear grandfather. Standing up, she took tentative steps to where he lay and placed a single white rose next to his body before re-taking her seat and allowing the priest to begin the mournful ceremony.

 

***

“Miss Manville, I am so truly sorry for your loss,” Clara looked up and smiled politely at another face of a man she did not recognise and nodded in appreciation.

 

“Thank you, you are too kind,” Appeased with the reply, the old man turned away and left Clara to stand on her own by the freshly dug grave, staring at her grandfather’s ornate headstone with a small, sad smile on her face.

 

Milton Nicholas Manville  
1793 – 1870  
A Remarkable Man, Loved By All.

 

The words were simple but they were all that was needed. Plus, they had to be general, any lines adhering to magic would confuse muggles and as he was being buried in a muggle cemetery, it was best not to draw too much attention.

 

“Wasn’t he born in 1750?”

 

Clara turned at the sound of a man’s voice and came face to face with yet another old man. She would have usually only bothered with the usual pleasantries but the old man before her knew her grandfather’s real age and this piqued her interest.

 

“Yes but seeing as where is buried, I couldn’t very well put that he had died at the grand old age of 120, could I? That’s not custom in the muggle world.”

 

Clara looked back at the headstone for a second before turning her attention fully on the man. Dressed in a smart suit, top hat and a walking stick, he looked like he could have been another muggle but the colour of his cravat, which was a deep shade of purple, gave away his identity.

 

“Excuse me but can I ask who you are? You clearly knew my grandfather well, as he didn’t tell many people his real age.”

 

The old man chuckled and took off his top hat, tipping it in Clara’s direction in a gentleman like manner. “Forgive me, my dear. I forget in my old age who I have met and who I haven’t. My name is Bernard Dixon, I’m a professor at Hogwarts. I first met your grandfather a very long time ago.”

 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Professor Dixon. My grandfather knew so many people, I don’t know many by name, I’m afraid. But I will definitely remember yours.”

 

“That you will, my dear. Now, I came here to say my farewells but I also have another reason for being here today. And you are part of that reason.”

 

Clara frowned slightly at the bespectacled man, whose eyes were glistening as though he had a secret he wanted to share. “Me? What have I got to do anything? I only met you five minutes ago, sir.”

 

The man chuckled once more and replaced his hat back upon his head. He offered his arm to Clara, who took it out of politeness and they left the cemetery at a slow pace, Clara allowing the old man to lead. “Your grandfather, my dear, was a special man, as you well know. But he was also a part of something special. You’ve heard about the recent disappearances, I assume?”

 

Clara nodded. “Yes, they’ve been all over the Daily Prophet for the past couple months. They still haven’t caught who is doing it. It’s a terrible thing.”

 

“Yes well, as the Ministry is no closer to discovering who is behind these…disappearances, your grandfather and I, among others, decided to take matters into our own hands.”

 

Clara frowned again and glanced at the Professor on her right. “And how have you done that exactly?”

 

The old professor stopped and turned to Clara, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can show you, if you want?”

 

Clara nodded but before she could say anything, the professor had grabbed her hand and she felt the familiar tug of disapparation before she landed in a warm room, stumbling slightly. Opening her eyes, she was met the sight of many people, laughing and joking and drinking together at tables.

 

“Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Miss Manville.”

 

Clara was amazed at what she saw. She had heard of the pub from so many of her wizarding friends but she had never been herself, her grandfather forbidding her to ever enter. She had never known why he was so insistent she was never to go in but at that moment, she didn’t care. The pub was warm and inviting, loud and jolly. It was a different world compared to the muggle pubs she had visited once or twice and she instantly loved it.

 

“If you would follow me, Miss Manville, you can come back here later in the evening for a drink on me.”

 

Clara tore her eyes away to nod at Professor Dixon and followed him to the back of the pub. Watching him tap the wall three times with his walking stick, a door appeared from nowhere and with a smile, he opened it. Clara took a step forward to take a look inside and was greeted with a table with a sea of people sat either side of it, talking to each other animatedly, unaware of her presence. Professor Dixon nudged her slightly and she stepped inside, her eyes taking in everything. When she had finished her wonderings, she turned to Professor Dixon, who was smiling at her warmly.

 

“Welcome to the Defenders of the Light, Clara.”

 

Clara was still in awe of her surroundings when Professor Dixon spoke, so he politely repeated himself, this time gaining the young woman’s attention.

 

“Welcome to the Defenders of the Light,”

 

“I beg your pardon sir but what? I’ve never heard of the Defenders of the Light before.”

 

Professor Dixon chuckled loudly, which garnered the attention of all at the table, who were all know focused on Clara and their founder. “I take that as a good thing, Clara. Please take a seat and I’ll explain everything.”

 

Clara nodded and allowed Professor Dixon to lead her to an empty chair, beside a man whose face she could not see, whilst he sat himself beside her at the head of the table. Clara took in the many faces in the room, most of them looking at her with interest. Blushing slightly at the attention she was getting, she was grateful when Professor Dixon cleared his throat.

 

“I would like to introduce you to Miss Clara Manville, granddaughter of our late friend, Milton. I don’t think I need to explain why I have invited her here.” There were murmurs around the table but no one interrupted with any objections as to the reason Clara was sitting with them. Professor Dixon turned to Clara and smiled warmly. “Clara, dear let me introduce you to the Defenders.”

 

He turned away from Clara and motioned to the first person on his left, an aristocratic looking woman who could only have been in her mid forties. “This is Theodora Ollivander, you may have heard of her and her husband, the wand maker Gerbold Ollivander.” The woman shot Clara a polite smile and Clara mirrored her actions.

 

Of course she had heard of Theodora Ollivander and her husband, they were famous throughout the land. His for his wand-making skills and Theodora for her powerful and intellectual mind. Her grandfather had mentioned her many times but Clara had never known how they knew each other until this point.

 

“This is Dugald McPhail. I don’t think I need to clarify who he is, do I?” Clara shook her head as she looked to the man sat next to Theodora Ollivander. 

 

Dugald McPhail had been Minister for Magic before Faris Spavin had taken over and had been one of the youngest Minsters ever appointed. He had also been one of the better liked ones, with people calling for him to replace Faris Spavin in the next election. The young man smiled at Clara and she felt herself blush slightly. He was an attractive man, with piercing blue eyes, red/brown hair and a boyish smile. She finally smiled at him and looked to the professor as he introduced the rest of the group

 

“This is Bertie Slughorn, master potioneer,” the slightly plump man nodded his head in acknowledgement, “Miss Maggie Hill, a lady in the muggle Royal Court,” the young woman smiled at Clara and bowed her head. Clara did the same and then faced the last person to be introduced.

 

It was man about the same age as Dugald McPhail but his scowl made him look ten years older. He made no attempt to smile at Clara and simply bowed his head politely, though she could see he had to force himself to do it.

 

“And finally, this is Edwin Clayton, owner of many floo powder factories. He is an intelligent man but do ignore the stern brow, he doesn’t know how to smile.” Everyone else at the table laughed but even the professor’s joke did not make him raise a smile. Clara gave the man one last look before she turned back to Professor.

 

“It’s lovely to meet everyone but I still do not understand why I am here?”

 

There was a scoff from the corner of the room and Clara knew without turning around that the sound had come from the disagreeable Mr Clayton. “I thought you said you she was smart, Mr Dixon.”

 

“Excuse me but I’m standing right here. Please do not speak about me like I am a child or some ignorant woman.” Clara usually held back her easily riled manner but she knew with this man, she did not need to be polite as he was not with her.

 

“You might not think her smart, Edwin but I think she is wonderful,” Mrs Ollivander raised her glass of what looked like muggle champagne towards Clara. “Bravo dear girl, I do like a female who speaks her mind.”

 

Clara nodded grimly, slightly embarrassed by her outburst but she did not blush and did not apologise. Professor Dixon looked bemused at Clara’s remark to Mr Clayton and cleared his throat.

 

“Mr Clayton, I think you need to give Miss Manville a chance. Miss Manville you are here because when your grandfather passed away, he left a visible void and he thought and I agreed that you should replace him. I’ve heard of your intelligence, Miss Manville and your extraordinary ability with a wand and without. I believe you would be a valuable asset to this group.”

 

Clara blushed appropriately at the compliments given to her by the Professor. She had never believed herself cleverer than others but her wand skills were something she knew of and was proud of. Although she had never been to a school to learn magic, her grandfather taught her everything she needed to know and she had excelled in spells. By her teens, she was accomplished in wandless magic, a skill not many magical folk knew how to do well, if they knew at all. But Clara was modest and did not brag about her skills and accepted the compliments politely.

 

“Thank you, Professor. You are too kind. But are you sure that it is me you want? I am stood here amongst accomplished and intelligent witches and wizards and I feel rather insignificant.”

 

“Well you shouldn’t my dear, in fact, I think we are all in agreement that you are indeed the right woman for the job, do we not?” The room nodded in agreement with the professor and Clara felt herself blush once more. Professor Dixon turned to Clara once more and smiled kindly. “So, Miss Manville, what do you say? About joining us in our cause?”

 

Clara glanced around the room once more at the approving faces, all except one, and turned to Professor Dixon, shyly smiling. “How can I refuse such an offer?”

 

“Well that is settled then, let’s drink to our newest recruit.” Theodora filled the glasses on the table with the flick of her wand, with what Clara now knew was champagne and everyone picked up their glasses. “To Clara.”

 

“To Clara,” Everyone repeated jovially and drank to a blushing Clara. When the toasting was finished and everyone resumed their private conversations, Clara took a seat at the end of the table, near to Professor Dixon and let out a weary sigh.

 

Just what had she agreed to?


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

A couple of weeks later…

 

The rain dashed the cobbled streets of London loudly, each individual splash contributing to the melody it was creating. The ladies and gentlemen who had braved the harsh weather were hurriedly making their way to their destinations, wanting to be quickly out of the pelting rain. Among them, a hooded young woman made her way across the wet street, overlooked by grand terraced houses. Checking she was not being followed, she headed down a small alley way. If anyone had followed her, they would have been at a loss as to where she had gone. There were no doors, no other exit and no stairway; only a brick wall at the end of the alley. The young woman had simply disappeared to the untrained eye. However, to those who knew what to look for would think nothing of her vanishing.

 

The young woman in question appeared moments later in a dimly lit pub and removed her hood, allowing her dark brown hair to lie loose against her cloak. Smiling at a few familiar faces littering the pub, she headed towards the back of the room and carefully slipped inside the near invisible door, hidden by the shade of the room.

 

“Miss Manville, I am so glad you could make it this evening on such short notice.”

 

Clara smiled at the bespectacled, white haired man and returned his sentiments.

 

“Professor Dixon, it’s lovely to see you again,” With a nod, Clara took her customary seat at the long table and made herself comfortable.

 

Glancing down the table, the faces of the usual members; Edwin, Theodora, Maggie and Dugald, were unusually grave and Clara’s faint smile faded. She had not realised just how serious the present situation in the Wizarding World had become until now.

 

It had started with strange disappearances of wizards and witches all over the country; only one or two at first but then they gradually grew in occurrence until soon it was around fifteen people each week. However the happenings had only escalated of late. There had been deaths and attacks and now the entire nation was scared. No one had come forward to claim responsibility and the unknown element had scared even the Ministry. The Minister for Magic, Faris Spavin was trying his best to calm the frightened population but his words were doing nothing to ease worries and concerns. Everyone was anxious as to what would follow next.

 

“As you might have heard,” Professor Dixon started, his mouth down turned in a frown, “The recent attacks have become more prevalent. In fact, Maggie has informed us that the muggles have also noticed these disappearances and are now somewhat alarmed.”

 

The auburn haired woman nodded, “Rumours are swirling, from the Palace to Westminster. The Prime Minister, William Gladstone is exploring all possible options in case the attacks spiral into the muggle community.”

 

It was common knowledge that the muggle Prime Minister, William Gladstone knew all about magic and the wizarding world and didn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, he was politically involved, campaigning in the last election of the Minister for Magic, backing Faris Spavin for office. It was safe to say he lost many wizards’ favour after that but his tolerance for magic has always been admired.

 

“Well it’s like they say, ‘Fear is catching’,” Dugald spoke, shaking his head, the movement making the red in his hair more prominent as it caught in the light of the fire. “It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that muggles may be catching on, whoever is doing this has no regard for secrecy or tact.”

 

The table went silent and Clara took that as her cue to speak, “I noticed a pattern in the attacks,” Curious eyes rested on her and she felt herself blush under the sudden scrutiny but continued nonetheless, “I’ve come to realise that all the missing wizards and witches have been muggleborns.”

 

No one spoke and Clara bit her lip. In all honesty, she had been expecting more of a reaction from her fellow peers. As she watched them all glance at each other, having what looked like a silent conversation she was clearly not privy to, she shook her head as if to backtrack her statement.

 

“It was just an observation.”

 

“And a damn good one at that! Merlin, how did we not see that?” exclaimed Theodora, in her usual dramatic flair, “Edwin, I thought you had been looking into it?” The accusing tone clear in her voice. She then turned to Clara, a smile on her face and tipped her glass towards her. “Well done my love.”

 

Edwin almost growled at Theodora’s accusing question, “I have been but it gets a bit hard when you have floo powder factories to run and workers to control,” He snapped, glaring at his accuser. “And what is it you have been doing exactly?”

 

Clara couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his defensive sniping. Clara had noted that he quite often defended himself, despite no one out right attacking his abilities – the mere suggestion that he had done something wrong was enough to trigger a tongue lashing and his customary scowl to deepen considerably. Yet this time he had every right to defend himself, she supposed, with Theodora openly criticising him in front of them all and she could understand his attitude.

 

Before Theodora, who turned her narrowed gaze on Edwin, could reply, Professor Dixon cleared his throat, ever the peace-keeper.

 

“Now, now, there is no need for such sniping and tones. We should be rejoicing in the fact that we have a new lead to go on,” Professor Dixon rested his eyes on Clara, who was sat still, silent and watching. “Well done dear, I knew fresh eyes were what we needed.”

 

Clara blushed once more, a common occurrence of late.

 

“Thank you,” was her reply, her voice now considerably quieter than it had been, not wanting to be seen as being smug in her investigations, which she was not, “But it was nothing, honestly. I was aware one of the victims was muggleborns, I remember seeing his name somewhere and I just went from there,” She shrugged and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “But I have a gut feeling that the fact they were all muggleborns has something to do with what is going on.”

 

“A gut feeling?” Edwin scoffed loudly, an incredulous look on his handsome face, “I think we need more than a gut feeling, Miss Manville,” His voice was mocking and Clara frowned at his attitude, which was more uncivil than usual. She instantly took back every understanding thought she had had about the man as she looked at him, eyes locking.

 

“Is there really any need for the attitude Clayton,” Dugald’s Scottish drawl reverberated through the room, “Miss Manville doing the work means you can get back to your woeful floo factories and save us from your misery.” He smirked, his eyes glinting in the light.

 

Theodora hid her own smirk in her champagne glass whilst Maggie didn’t even bother to conceal the unladylike snigger coming from her lips.

 

Edwin said nothing in retaliation to Dugald. Instead, he stood abruptly and stalked over to the fire, where he disappeared almost immediately, not before glowering at everyone in the room before he went.

 

“Good riddance, he always knows how to spoil the day,” Dugald sipped on his drink, which looked suspiciously like muggle ale, “Ignore Clayton, Miss Manville, he wasn’t brought up with manners I’m afraid.” His gaze was intense as he brought his eyes to look upon Clara and she felt herself fidgeting in her seat, unsure whether she was uncomfortable with being stared at or because the owner of the eyes was extremely attractive.

 

“Edwin has been under an immense lot of pressure, Dugald. I am not making excuses for the sometimes impossible man but he has a lot on his plate. There have been murmurings of an uprising in his factories.” Professor Dixon explained, taking off his glasses to clean them, a habit Clara had noticed quite often.

 

Dugald said nothing more and merely nodded in acknowledgement. He more likely than not understood the pressure of uprisings, having been Minister for Magic himself. 

 

It was Maggie who spoke instead.

 

“There are also rumours of uprising in the muggle Mills in the North,” She explained, gesturing with her hands. “It’s not exactly a topic us ladies discuss over tea and cakes.”

 

“The muggle and wizarding worlds are slowly merging,” Theodora stated, “Who would have thought it?”

 

“Times are changing Theodora, times are changing,” Professor Dixon mused, “Anyway, back to what our dear Clara has excellently discovered. We need to look into whether these victims being muggleborn is somehow an motivation to whoever is carrying out these attacks and kidnappings.”

 

Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.

 

“I can ask my contact in the Ministry whether there have been any leads or names being discussed?” Offered Dugald, “I’m sure Henry will have something for us, even if it’s only small. Clara could perhaps come with me, seeing as she made the connection?”

 

Clara’s eyes widened at the suggestion. She had never stepped foot inside the Ministry and had no idea what went on in there – except for the rumoured whisperings of corruption within. It wasn't particularly a place she wanted to go but she would not refuse Dugald’s offer.

 

“Yes, that’s a good idea Dugald. You two should go to the Ministry, I’m sure it will be quite the experience for Clara.” The Professor smiled kindly before turning to Maggie and Theodora, no doubt discussing what they could do to help the investigation.

 

Clara smiled and nodded politely. Standing up from her seat, she bid farewell to Theodora and Maggie, as well as the Professor before she headed to the fireplace, where Dugald stood patiently, a kind smile on his lips.

 

“Ready Miss Manville?”

 

He did not wait for a response and she had no reply to give. As he disappeared in tongues of green, Clara followed suit, not quite sure what she expected to find on the other side of the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The world of HP belongs to JK. I only own what you don't recognise.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

Clara was in awe from the very moment she stepped out of the fireplace.

The Ministry was nothing she had ever expected but at the same time, everything she had imagined. Glancing around the huge lobby she was in, she simply stood and watched as numerous wizards, along with the odd witch, walked by her, some holding documents, others with strange looking artifacts in their hands. She even spotted one wizard carrying what looked like a muggle spinning top, looking at in childlike fascination.

The other thing she noticed were the owls flying above them, all carrying letters and parcels. The noise, now she was focused solely on the feathered creatures, was quite deafening and she couldn’t help but pull a face as she imagined what the place must look like at the end of the day. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to clean up the mess, even with the use of magic.

“Miss Manville, are you ready to go?”

Clara’s thoughts were interrupted by the Scottish accent of Dugald, who stood watching her with a small smile on his face. Feeling her face blush, she gave him a sheepish smile and nodded, “Of course, after you.”

He nodded before he began walking to the cages at the end of the room, each with two wizards stationed at the post, levitating the cages up towards the higher floors.

“Is that safe?” Clara asked as they stood in line, waiting for a free cage to take them up. She eyed a cage that was currently in use, cringing as she heard it creak the higher it went, “It doesn’t sound safe.”

“It is perfectly fine,” Dugald replied, although his words did not comfort Clara. “It is magic after all.” He whispered in her ear before he stepped forward and into the waiting cage that had appeared, ready and empty.

Clara followed suit, apprehensively stepping into the rickety box and standing close to Dugald just in case she happened to fall when the cage lurched to life.

Which she did.

As soon as the cage was levitated up, Clara lost her balance and fell directly into Dugald, who gripped her arms firmly but gently and held her up. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and refused to look at Dugald, who was no doubt smirking at her embarrassment and instead, she concentrated on the blurring images of the passing floors. She could just about make out the levels as they climbed higher and higher, until they finally stopped and she saw that they had arrived on the 6th floor, the sign on eye level.

She didn’t get a chance to read the small print on the sign, which would no doubt inform her as to what department they were on, as Dugald gently nudged her out of her cage and onto the mostly deserted floor.

“This way,” Dugald spoke in a quiet voice, like the few wizards that inhabited the floor, as though it was forbidden to talk louder than a whisper.

Clara obediently followed, biting her tongue to refrain from asking the many questions that were forming in her head; why was a Ministry department floor empty at midday? What were they doing there? Who were they going to see?

Her last question was answered as they arrived at the door of one Minister Henry Walters. The name plate on the door looked as though it had once been fancy but now it looked neglected and worn, much like the man it spoke about.

“Minister Walters, it has been a while my friend,” Dugald embraced the man like an old friend and his actions were returned whole heartedly. Perhaps they were friends, Clara thought as she watched the pair, after all Dugald had been Minister for Magic only a year or two ago.

Henry Walters stood much taller than Dugald in height and far bigger in width. He looked bedraggled and unkempt; hair all over the place and a small stain on his cravat. He was nothing Clara believed a Minister would and should look like but she held back her judgement when the man looked in her direction and she could see the exhaustion reflected in his tired eyes.

“It is good to see you again Dugald. Come on in, both of you.”

Dugald nodded and motioned for Clara to step into the office ahead of him. She nodded and slowly walked into the small office, which held nothing more than an ebony desk and a bookshelf spanning the width of one wall. Clara found herself drawn the books, eyes fixed on the many titles and authors, both muggle and wizard authors alike. The many Dickens titles caught her attention and she was pleasantly surprised that Dickens, although a brilliant and accomplished writer, had found his way into the wizarding world.

“I suppose you are here about the frequent attacks?” Clara turned at the weary voice of the dishevelled Minister and found him sitting at his desk, “I cannot tell you much Dugald, except that we at the Ministry are worried.” Minister Walters sighed and turned his attentions to Clara. “And you are, Miss?”

“This is Clara Manville, Henry. Milton Manville’s only granddaughter,” Dugald explained as Clara shot the Minister a small smile, “She knows everything that is going on.”

At Dugald’s emphasis, the Minister’s eyes widened a little, “Oh my, I did not realise Milton had a granddaughter.” He looked to Clara, a small almost forced smile on his face, “It is lovely to meet you Miss Manville and I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather. He was a great man.”

Clara smiled politely. “Thank you Minister, it’s much appreciated. And it’s lovely to meet you too.”

Clara dragged herself away from the bookshelf and took a seat in the empty chair beside Dugald. “What do you really know about the disappearances? Have you noticed the connection between the victims at all?” Henry looked taken aback by Clara’s directness but she didn’t falter. “Have you gotten any further in your investigations?”

“Erm, well,” Henry started, swallowing deeply. “What connections? The only thing we have is that we believe these disappearances are the work of an individual in charge of a group, a leader of sorts. We believe he is the mastermind behind the attacks.”

“All the victims were muggleborns,” Explained Dugald before Clara could speak herself. “I thought you would have had more to go on by now Henry. What is the Ministry doing?”

Clara watched as Henry, who suddenly looked like he had aged ten years, sighed and lit his pipe. “Believe me Dugald, I have no idea. Considering this Ministry was put together to govern and protect, it has no idea what it is doing,” He blew out a ring of smoke, “Spavin does not know what he is doing and the cracks are appearing quite steadily.”

Dugald nodded gravely whilst Clara looked at the Minister with pursed lips, “Well,” she started, a small smile forming, “It’s a good job we’re here then, is it not?”

 

+++

 

Clara and Dugald arrived back to a tension filled room; a tension so thick it could have been cut with a flick of a wand. Theodora was sat at one side of the table, arms folded elegantly across her chest and stern look on her face. Edwin sat on the other, his stance not dissimilar to Theodora’s.

Professor Dixon sat the top of the table, a bemused look on his face as he focused on the returning pair, “Clara, Dugald, what did you find out?”

“The Ministry are in a panic,” replied Dugald, taking his usual seat, “Henry said that they hadn’t even made the connection between the victims.” Dugald sighed, “The Ministry are going to be no help in this.”

“They did mention one thing however,” Clara spoke, taking her own seat next to Theodora, “They believe it’s the work of one man in charge of a considerably large group, seeing as the disappearances have increased. I believe that whoever this man in, he’s recruiting followers at quite the pace.”

Edwin scoffed, “So how does that help us exactly? Except now we know the Ministry is complete waste of time,” His voice was scathing, “Why do we even bother with a Ministry if it’s so incapable. It’s in even worse of state than it was when you were in charge, McPhail.”

Clara rolled her eyes at the very obvious insult Edwin threw at Dugald, “Is there really any need for that? If the Ministry cannot figure this out, then we’ll have to help. Is that not why we are here in the first place?”

“It is why we are here but I still cannot figure out as to why you are here,” Edwin replied, a smirk playing at his lips, the haughty look on his face making Clara blaze.

“I am here because I was asked and contrary to your belief, I am actually useful. This century is moving forward, it is about time your misogynistic views did the same.” Clara shot back, chest now heaving. Her grandfather had always taught her to never let a man make her feel small and she was not about to start with Edwin Clayton.

Edwin looked slightly taken aback by her outburst but wasn’t given the chance to reply as Professor Dixon stepped in as mediator.

“Enough Edwin, you have taken things too far. As for the Ministry, Clara is correct. If they are struggling in finding out who is behind this, then that is where we step in. We are here to help, after all.”

Edwin said nothing else and remained in his seat, arms stiffly folded across his chest. Clara, who had now calmed down considerably, felt a hand grace her arm and looked up to see Theodora now stood up and looking down at her.

“My dear, if I could have a few moments with you?”

Clara nodded and stood up, glad to be able to leave the room and Edwin’s presence. She followed the older woman into The Leaky Cauldron, which was unusually quiet for the time of day. They took a seat at a table in the corner furthest from the door and bar, so they would not be disturbed. Clara sat down and placed her hands in her lap, unsure as to why Theodora wanted to speak to her, aside from taking her out of the room to stop any further arguing with Edwin.

“Do not worry my dear,” Theodora started, obviously noting Clara’s expression, “I just wanted to get out of there and I assumed you would also. Besides, I realised that I have not had the time to talk to you at all, amidst all this chaos going on,” The older woman smiled and ordered two drinks, wordlessly nodding to the bartender before relaxing in her chair, “So Clara Manville, tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” Clara asked, swallowing thickly although she did not know why. She knew she had nothing to worry about talking to Theodora but she was hesitant in talking about herself – it was not something she did often. No one had ever been interested in her life before.

“Anything my dear, anything at all.”

Clara nodded and cleared her throat. “Well, I’m 21, which by all means is actually quite old and I know many people believe I should be married with at least 2 children hanging off my skirts,” Theodora laughed at her words, “My parents left me when I was 7 and never came back and I had been living with my grandfather ever since. He was the only family I had left so I guess that makes me somewhat of an orphan now.” She finished sadly, taking a sip of the drink the bartender placed in front of her, blanching as the liquid hit the back of her throat, “What is this?”

“It is wizard-made wine, much stronger than the muggle stuff,” Theodora answered, smirking and taking a sip from her own glass, “I believed we needed something strong after suffering Edwin Clayton.”

“It is lovely,” Clara managed to choke out, “But I don’t think I will be drinking it on a regular basis,”

“You get used to the taste after countless nights of drinking it to stay sane,” Theodora commented, a rueful smile on her face, “It is great for when you do eventually get married or when dealing with men like Edwin Clayton.”

At his mention, Clara rolled her eyes and took another sip, “My grandfather warned me about men like him; those that believe that women should be at home, looking after the children and sewing but I have never understood why men believe that women are incapable of doing anything remotely important.” Clara sighed, “Just because I have breasts does not mean that I cannot do what any man can.”

Theodora raised her wine glass, “Hear, hear my dear. Believe me, I understand your struggles. I am only where I am today because I had to be tough just to prove that I am more than just a weak, simple woman. I now hold some respect amongst some top ranking Ministry men but none of them conceal their disgust at having a woman stand among them.”

Clara shook her head. “This age is unfair. I feel as though sometimes I was born in the wrong era. Surely the future will not be like this?” Clara mused, taking another sip of wine.

Theodora tapped her glass with her long, perfectly tidy nails. “Maybe not but unless we start to try and change society now, the future will not stand a chance.”

Clara smiled, “Wise words Ms Ollivander. Perhaps the future shall start with us,” Raising her glass, Clara took a deep breath, “To women.”

The sound of clinking glasses filled the quiet room.

“To strong women.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

A couple of weeks later…

 

The back room of the Leaky Cauldron was in complete silence. It would be quite understandable to believe that the room was empty, however the tension that seemed to seep out of the closed door and into the dimly lit pub suggested otherwise.

Inside the room usually filled with the booming personalities of The Defenders, sat only Clara and Edwin, placed at opposite ends of the table, trying their best to ignore each other whilst both glaring at the other every minute or so, for no apparent reason except for a mutual dislike.

Clara had boldly protested at being left alone with Edwin, citing that there was the probability that when the others finally returned, there would only be one sitting at the table, the other a pile of ash. Professor Dixon had merely laughed at Clara’s words and stepped into the fireplace, followed by both Theodora and Bertie.

So now she was stuck with the intolerable man who kept breathing too loudly and she was beginning to reach the end of her tether, although she believed that when it came to Edwin Clayton, it was not long enough to begin with.

“Is there anything we can go on?” Clara finally spoke, the tension becoming too much for her. Her question was a redundant one because she knew the answer she would receive but she asked it any way. “Because I have found nothing.”

Edwin looked up, his face holding the same old disapproving look of distaste it always seemed to hold whenever Clara spoke. “Nothing at all. This is a complete waste of my time.” He leant back in his chair, pushing the papers in front of him across the table.

“And it is not a waste of mine?” Clara challenged, raising one eyebrow, “At least we now know that we did not miss anything. The eye-witnesses were very forthcoming, which is more than I can say about the Magical Law Enforcement officers.” The officers in question had been rather rude and Clara had instantly gotten the feeling that they were not used to a woman who would talk back to them, judging by their expressions and their lack of manners.

 

“Yes but we knew that anyway. I could have been doing something valuable with my time rather than sat here in this back alley pub with…” Edwin trailed off, his face regaining the haughty look he always seemed to have when talking about or to Clara.

“Sat here with me. That is what you wanted to say, is it not?” Clara sighed heavily, “Look, this bad feeling between us cannot continue, especially if we are to work together.” When Edwin said nothing, Clara continued. “Suppose we can call a pardon of sorts?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “A pardon?” He pursed his lips. “And what would this pardon consist of?”

“Merely us not sniping at one another or at least not as much as we currently do,” Clara smiled slightly. “I do not think that is too much to ask, do you? And also that you treat me with respect and I will do the same. I may be a woman but that does not mean you have the right to speak down to me whenever you feel like it.”

Edwin took his time in answering Clara, causing her to roll her eyes in an un-ladylike manner at his obnoxiousness. “I guess that would be beneficial all round,” He started, playing with the coin he had between his fingers, the galleon glinting every so often in the candle light. “And as for your second demand, I suppose a mutual respect would not be too difficult on my part.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “If that is you trying to say that it will be a problem for me then you are mistaken. For the sake of this group and for the sake of catching whoever is behind these disappearances, I will do whatever it takes.” Clara stood up from her seat and held her hand out. “Shall we shake on it like gentlemen would? It might make this easier for you.”

Clara knew she was goading him, but it was an instant reaction to whenever she spoke with him. To his credit, Edwin did not reply and instead, he stood up and held his own hand out. Their hands met slowly in the middle and Clara gasped at the feel of his cold hand wrapped around her own. Bright blue eyes met dark brown and a polite nod was exchanged, as well as shake of their clasped hands but neither looked away, as if challenging the other to do so first.

A loud crash from in the bar resounded loudly in the small room and the pair looked towards the door, gazes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. Clara watched as Edwin clutched his wand in right hand, taking it from the inside of his tailored jacket and he made his way towards the door. Clara followed behind him quietly, peering out of the door once Edwin had opened it, becoming increasingly aware she had no wand on her person. She didn’t need it but she wasn’t planning on showing off her wandless magic this early and especially not to Edwin Clayton.

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

A loud voice boomed, echoing around the now empty pub and as Clara positioned herself at the doorway, she could see a large, burly man stood at the bar, his back turned to them. It was obvious he was shouting at the current landlord Edgar, as the rest of the pub was deserted and Edgar would not leave – the pub was his pride and joy.

“I don’t know who you are talking about!” Edgar’s voice was strong and Clara smiled at the courage the man was showing, despite now being held against his own bar, wand to his neck.

“We know you’ve been hidin’ mudbloods in this pub. Me and my boys here will happily turn this place upside down to double check, to make sure you ain’t lyin’ to us.”

“We have to do something.” Clara whispered harshly to Edwin, looking away from the scene in front of her and looking up at the dark haired man, who had yet to break his own gaze. “He has done so much for us.”

“I know.” Edwin whispered through gritted teeth, his eyes never looking at her. “I’m trying to think.”

Clara stood there for a couple of minutes, arms folded over her chest and foot tapping impatiently on the floor until she couldn’t wait anymore. “I am not standing around waiting for Edgar to die, which is what is going to happen if we don’t act now!”

Ignoring Edwin and whatever he was now saying to her, she moved away from him and ran out of the door, stopping just outside to check her surroundings. In the time it had taken her to act, the large, burly man had been joined by 4 others, who were ransacking the pub with equal looks of sick satisfaction. Aware that she had the element of surprise, Clara smirked and held her hands out in front of her. Feeling the magic tingle her hands finger and flow through her hands, she watched with pleasure as the large man who still had his wand at Edgar’s neck flew back into the wall, eyes wide as he tried to figure out where the attack had come from.

Feeling Edwin’s presence behind her, Clara took it as a sign that he was ready to fight beside her and she made her presence known, the Confringo spell on the tip of her tongue before it knocked out one of the men - one that Clara noticed was dressed entirely different to the rest. Making her way over to him, she instantly recognised him as one of the few men who had been on the deserted floor of Minister Henry Walters’ office. Tall, fair haired and handsome, his face was one not many people would forget in a hurry, especially not Clara.

“Petrificus Totalus.” Clara watched as the magic turned his already unconscious body rigid and she moved away to help Edwin. She would come back to the familiar looking man once they had dealt with everyone else.

His appearance had to mean something.

Seeing Edwin locked in a duel with the large man, who had now turned his attention away from Edgar, Clara focused on the other three men, who were now circling him.

“Oh gentlemen?” At hearing her voice, they all turned and frowned as they looked Clara, obviously not expecting a woman to be in the pub with them. “I am feeling awfully left out. Care to let me in on the fun?”

She watched as they all shot each other a look, smirking before one of them stepped forward, wand at the ready. “I wouldn’t wanna hurt ya love.”

“Oh, do not worry about me. I am sure I can handle it.” Clara replied and watched with amusement as the man walked closer to her, a glint in his eye which made him look slightly unhinged, that and the fact he had no teeth and barely any hair.

“If ya say so love.”

Before the man could even throw a spell in her direction, Clara lifted her hands up and smirked. “Stupefy.” Sending him flying backwards, she watched as he struggled to work what had happened, looking at her with frightened eyes.

“What the-“

Clara never heard him finish his sentence as she felt herself being lifted into the air and the bar coming towards her at a fast pace. Closing her eyes on impact, she grimaced as she hit the solid oak wood with the side of her body, her ribs protesting instantly as she struggled to get up.

“That’ll teach ya love.” One of the other men, scrawny and dark haired, who had been smashing all the bottles and glasses behind the bar, stood over her smiling like a mad man. “Women like you need to learn ya place.”

“And what place would that be?” Asked Clara, now stood up and glaring at the man. “Watching from the side-lines? I will have you know that women can do most things better than men.” She shifted on her feet, trying not to let the discomfort in her ribs show.

“Like what?” The last man, who looked a lot cleaner than the others, was now stood beside him. “Women can’t do nothin’ better than men.”

Clara, aching as she stood to full height, raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Try this.” Without warning, she stunned the two men together, watching them both in amusement as they hit the ground with matching expressions of shock. Waiting for them to hit the ground, she clapped her hands together in dramatic flair. “How was that?”

From her right Clara heard a groan of pain and she watched as Edwin, limping and holding his side gingerly, was stood over the bald, burly man, wand pointed at him menacingly. Eyeing him carefully as Edwin snarled at the man, his grip on his wand not lessening despite the man being disarmed on the floor, Clara stepped in.

“Petrificus Totalus.”

The man’s body stiffened and it was only then that Edwin looked away and loosened his grip on his wand, lowering it to the ground. Clara, glancing at him warily, was about to say something when there was a symphony of popping sounds behind them, concerned voices all blending into one.

“What happened here?”

“Who did this?”

“Are you both unharmed?”

Eyeing Edwin one last time, shooting him a look that was a mixture of both concern and apprehension, Clara turned around and was greeted by the bewildered expressions of Professor Dixon, Dugald and Theodora.

“We are fine, I am more concerned about Edgar.” At the mention of the Landlord’s name, the man slowly appeared from behind the bar, visibly shaken and his face bruised.

“Edgar, my friend, come with me.” Clara watched as Theodora led Edgar to the back room, leaving Professor Dixon and Dugald, who were walking around the room, glancing at the mess and the men who lay unconscious on the floor.

“Edwin, sit down. You look as though you may faint.” Professor Dixon’s kind voice echoed around the silent room and Edwin’s response – a grunt – was heard loud and clear.

“I am fine, Bernard. It is nothing a healing charm will not fix.” Edwin was talking through gritted teeth, a sign that he was in severe pain. “I will be fine by morning, just leave me be.”

At his last words, Clara threw her hands up and let out a frustrated sigh. “Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Stepping over the numerous table legs on the floor, Clara stalked over to Edwin and all but threw him into one of the only seats in the bar that was still intact. “Stop being a proud fool and let us help you.” Ignoring the glare she was receiving from the injured man, Clara turned to Professor Dixon. “Edwin will be happy to let you help him Professor.”

The old man chuckled and made his way to Edwin, Clara moving so he could get closer. Heading over to Dugald, she gently touched his forearm and motioned for him to follow her. Leading him to the furthest corner of the bar, she moved a fallen table out of the way and revealed the man she had recognised to be from the Ministry.

Dugald, upon looking at the still unconscious man, frowned, the lines in his forehead aging him almost instantly. Clara watched with bated breath as Dugald attempted to piece together the puzzle in front of him. It didn’t take long for the former Minister to realise that he too recognised the man in front of him. Clara watched as Dugald walked towards where he was laying and bent down, to examine him closely.

“We saw him at the Ministry when we visited Henry.” Clara glanced at Dugald, watching his reaction to the man in front of them. “What would he be doing here? He is a bit over-dressed though, don’t you think?” Clara gestured to the other men, dotted around the room. “I noticed him almost instantly. Something does not add up here.”

Dugald remained silent, still staring at the man. Clara was about to walk away, to see how Edgar was fairing in the back room when Dugald quietly said her name, turning his head to look at her, unmoving from the floor.

“His name is Tristan Darrigan. He was a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when I was in power, but he was only a trainee then. The last I heard was that he was dismissed for reasons undisclosed to the public – his father is a powerful man and managed to cover up whatever happened.” Dugald explained. “I think we should question him when he wakes up.”

Clara nodded in agreement. “Yes, that is why I didn’t want to take any chances with him escaping. He might be able to tell us something.”

“I will see if Professor Dixon can have Bertie make some Veritaserum. We might just need it.” Dugald nodded to himself. He stood up and wiped his hands together, as though dirt plagued them. “Anyway, how are you fairing? No matter how much you hide it, I can see that you are struggling to put your weight on your left leg and you are holding your ribs without noticing.”

Clara instinctively moved her hands away from her ribs at Dugald’s observations. “Honestly, I am fine. A quick healing charm and a pain potion will make it go away. I think we hurt them more than they hurt us.”

Dugald laughed loudly. “Yes, you certainly did.” Before Dugald could carry on questioning Clara, Professor Dixon’s voice carried through the pub.

“How about we all confer in the back room? I feel as though we have much to discuss.” Everyone nodded and one by one, they all headed towards their adopted Headquarters, Edwin leading the way. Clara followed behind him, quickening her pace so she could catch up to him.

“Are you alright? Did the Professor heal you?”

Edwin stopped at Clara’s questions and turned to face her. She couldn’t read his expression and frowned slightly. “I am fine, thank you.” His tone was clipped and terse and Clara’s frown deepened.

“Are you sure? Because I could not help but notice that you were quite angry before. I honestly did not think you would put down your wand.” Clara wanted to add more but she was cut off by Edwin, his face now angry.

“I do not need your judgement nor your opinion. It is not news I have a temper. And if I ever need your help, which will never be the case might I add, I will ask for it! I do not appreciate being treated like a child!”

Clara stepped back at Edwin’s anger and let out a deep sigh. “It is certainly not news that you have a temper. Maybe next time you may be able to rein it in enough to appreciate my concern.” Clara went to walk away but she stopped. “And if you don’t want to be treated like a child, then do not act like one!”

Without waiting for Edwin to comment again, Clara brushed past him and took her seat next to Theodora, who stood up and greeted her with a warm hug before sitting down once more. Clara could feel the burning gaze of Edwin on her but she refused to look his way, having had enough of his attitude.

Professor Dixon stood in his seat and cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Well, my friends, after today’s excitement, I fear we have much to discuss.” The old man then turned his kind eyes to Clara, the sparkle in them clear to see. “Much to discuss indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: JK owns the world of Harry Potter. I only own Clara and everything/everyone you don't recognise. I also post this story over at HPFF under the name TearsIMustConceal and this story will also be posted on FF.net in the future.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

“Are you sure you are feeling alright Clara?” The concern in Professor Dixon's voice was clear as he watched the young girl with focused eyes, watching for any signs of pain.

Clara nodded, smiling tiredly. “I am, nothing a charm or two can't fix. That's not important now anyway. What is important is the man currently lying on the floor.” Clara's eyes moved to the man, who was still unconscious. “Dugald and I saw him at the Ministry a couple of weeks ago.”

“Tristan Darrigan. He used to be a trainee Law Enforcement Officer back when I was Minister. He was dismissed but no reason was given and nothing was investigated.” Dugald explained, his eyes glancing around the table. “I suspect, noting his presence here alongside those brutish men, that he was dismissed for something unlawful and that is why no questions were asked.”

Professor Dixon nodded, fixing his glasses that were currently resting on the end of his nose. “Yes indeed, this man may be of some help in our investigations.” Professor Dixon, turned to Bertie, who was sat at the end of the table. “Bertie, can you make the veritaserum? I do not think this young man will talk otherwise.”

Bertie nodded, standing up from the table. “Yes, yes. I'll get right on it. It will take a while though, you can't rush the mastery and skill of potion making.” He disapparated almost immediately, leaving the rest of the Defenders in silence.

“So what do we with this fellow in the meantime?” Asked Theodora, lighting a cigarette and making it look like an art to Clara, who was extremely fascinated to come across a woman who smoked so publicly. “I say we try and talk to him once he wakes up and if he gives us nothing, we simply wait until Bertie brings us the veritaserum. What is the harm?”

Clara looked to Professor Dixon, who looked to be deep in thought, hand resting on his chin. “I suppose there is no harm.” Professor Dixon looked to Dugald, who nodded and stood up. “Dugald, I would like you to talk to man when he wakes up. I think you are most suited to the task.”

Dugald nodded again and approached the still unconscious man, taking out his wand and levitating him towards an empty chair. “I don't think he will talk but it can't hurt to try, I suppose.”

“I don't see why we just can't make him talk? He would have come in here and hurt us and Edgar had he not been stopped.” Edwin, now more stable and alert after taking a potion Bertie had brought with him, was glaring at the man, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed.

“That may be so Edwin but fighting violence with violence is never the answer.” Professor Dixon's response was measured and Clara frowned as Edwin turned his glare towards the Professor before standing up and storming out of the room. “His temper has been extremely short of late.”

Theodore just scoffed, blowing smoke into the air. “Bah, he's just bitter that Clara saved his skin down there.” Theodora took a deep pull of her cigarette before putting it out into a small tray that rested on the table. “Clara dear, you are magnificent. I must say that I am sorry that we missed the show, I suspect that you were marvellous.”

Clara blushed and shook her head. “Edwin did his part, I would have been overcome had he not been there.” She did not know why she was defending the man who had not long ago shouted at her but she felt the inclination to do so. He had fought beside her and she knew she would have been overcome by the men had he not joined her in the fight. He may have been a disagreeable man but they had called a truce and she had appreciated his help, even if he had not felt the same. “But I'm just glad I could do my part to help Edgar.”

Clara ignored the strange look Theodora was giving her and stood up from the table, smoothing down the skirts of her dress. “If you excuse me, I think I would like to get some air.” Professor Dixon nodded and Clara smiled, heading out of the door and into the pub before leaving the building altogether.

 

*

“Who are you working for Tristan?” Clara walked back into the back room to find Dugald interrogating the man from the Ministry, who was now awake. “Is this whole thing really worth your silence? Your life? You were training to stop things like this when I first met you, what could have changed your mind so drastically?”

Tristan said nothing and Dugald sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired and unkempt but still managed to look handsome despite this. Theodora was in the corner, smoking another cigarette as she spoke to Maggie, who was dressed in muggle finery, with jewels around her neck whilst Professor Dixon watched Tristan with curious eyes.

“Not talking?” Clara found herself asking Professor Dixon, in a low voice as not to disturb Dugald but it was in vain as Tristan, upon noticing Clara, who was now standing by the Professor, smirked as he stared at her.

“I was wondering how you got the best of me, how quick you managed to disarm me and knock me out but then I realised something.” Tristan's smirk grew larger and more sinister. “You're a wandless.”

Clara shook her head. “I'm afraid you are mistaken. I am no such thing.”

“Then prove it. Show me your wand.” Tristan shot back, fidgeting against the magical binds that tied him to the chair. “Show me.”

Feeling the skirts of her dress, where she usually kept her wand in the deep pockets, Clara frowned before her eyes widened. She did not have her wand on her. With no recollection of where she had left it, she shot a panicked look at the Professor whilst Tristan let out a maniacal laugh.

“So it is true. He'd like you. He'd like you a lot.”

“Who would like me a lot?” Asked Clara, eyes settling on Tristan. She could feel the panic bubbling inside her, the feeling in her stomach making her nauseous but she knew it wasn't the time to be a frightened little girl.

“Who would like me a lot?” This time, Clara's voice rang out, strong and demanding and Tristan stopped his laughing to look in her direction.

“You will find out soon enough. You've got fight, he enjoys a girl who has fight.” Tristan licked his lips, grinning at Clara, who was doing her best not to shake.

“Enough!” Dugald shouted, his voice ringing out in the room, blocking Tristan's view of Clara. “Stop stalling Tristan and just tell us.”

“I'm not telling you anything. Leave me alone with her though,” Tristan spoke, gesturing to Clara, “And I might just tell her a few things. And show her.” It was hard to mistake what Tristan was implying, his eyes wild and gleeful.

What happened next was a blur. Clara felt herself being pushed to the side of the room, Professor Dixon reaching for her so she did not fall as Edwin appeared from nowhere and began attacking Tristan. Despite her heart pounding in her ears, she could hear the sickening crunches as Edwin repeatedly punched Tristan in the face, his rage unmistakable. Clara watched on in horror, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of her, even when Theodora's hand gently gripped her wrist and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort or perhaps it was reassurance, Clara wasn't too sure.

“Edwin, stop!” Dugald stepped forwards, dodging a blow to the face in order to push Edwin off Tristan, who was now unconscious, head lolling against his chest, blood pooling in his lap. “Just stop.”

Clara found herself looking to Edwin, whose chest was heaving heavily as he stood back. Her eyes were drawn to his knuckles, bloodied and swollen, blood falling in languid drops, staining the hardwood floor. Meeting his eyes, she couldn't look away from the intensity of his gaze and she swallowed thickly. Slowly making her way towards him, Edwin finally looked away from Clara and disapparated, leaving Clara standing in the middle of the room.

“Professor, I think you may be best in cleaning him up.” Dugald's voice broke the silence that had fallen upon the room and Clara shook her head before taking a seat at the empty table. She felt Theodora slip into the seat beside her and a hand rest on the small of her back.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Her voice was gentle, as though speaking to a timid child. “You look like you are in shock.”

Clara swallowed. “I have never seen such raw brutality.” She shook her head. “Someone should check on Mr Clayton, see if he is alright.”

Theadora let out a laugh. “Check if Edwin is alright? My dear, he is not the one with the unrecognisable face.” The older woman gestured to Tristan, whom Professor Dixon was performing healing charms on. “He is the one who we should be concerned about.”

“He wasn't himself. I know he is usually quite angry but he shows it in rude retorts and a terrible attitude. Not once have I ever known him to show his anger in a physical manner.” Clara felt as though she was having to explain her concerns. “I just think there is something more going on.”

“I will check on him, he usually tolerates me.” Maggie smiled and stood up from her chair. “He might let me into the factory, you never know.”

She disapparated quickly and Clara let out a deflated breath. She felt utterly exhausted and as though she could sleep for a week, which sounded like a perfect plan but she knew they all had work to do.

“Clara dear, you should go home. We can take care of this.” Clara hadn't even noticed the Professor move from his position by Tristan until she looked up to find him next to her, a small, gentle smile on his face.

Clara shook her head. “No, I will stay. We need to find out who is behind this. We can't stop now.”

“Tristan will not be talking for a while and I believe it is best we wait for Bertie to return with a batch of veritaserum.” Professor Dixon explained, “You look like you need the rest. I will have Edgar flag you down a carriage. I do not trust magic when you are so exhausted.”

Clara didn't respond and merely stood up. “Fine but I shall be back first thing. We need to get to the bottom of this.”

Professor Dixon contained his smile and nodded. “As you wish. Theodora, escort her downstairs, if you will?”

Theodora nodded and stood up beside Clara, hand on the small of her back as she guided her out of the back room and into the pub, where Edgar was holding the door open, arm waving as he flagged down a horse and carriage.

“Get some sleep my dear. I fear this excitement may have gone to your head if your concerns for Edwin are anything to go by.” Theodora softly laughed, “Maybe tomorrow you will be back to your usual self.”

Clara smiled tightly. “Yes, maybe I will.” She said nothing else as she stepped up into the carriage with Edgar's help and shut the door.

Waving once, she sat back and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but take offence at Theodora's words, about her concerns for Edwin. Out of character, yes but he was still a human being and Clara recognised that the man had been acting strangely, if their truce was anything to go by. There was definitely something amiss and Clara felt as though it was more than just his usual frustrations.

“Miss, this is your stop.” The carriage driver called out in the most pronounced London accent she had ever heard, which made Clara smile as she got out. Paying the man, who tipped his hat politely as he rode off, Clara quickly entered the house she now called her own and was greeted by Victor, her grandfather's butler who had been around since Clara was knee high and had refused to leave her alone.

“Miss Manville, you look weary. I will ask the kitchen to send your food upstairs to your room. You should rest.” Victor took her coat and placed it on the coat stand that sat left of the door. “Let me escort you upstairs, miss.”

Clara did not fight nor correct the man on his formality and simply allowed him to take her upstairs and to her room. Waiting outside until Clara was dressed appropriately for bed, he came in and tucked her in, much like her grandfather used to. “Get some sleep , miss.”

Clara said nothing and closed her eyes, her mind shutting off the instant her head hit the pillow, thoughts of the drama that had occurred fading away into black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise - it all belongs to JK. I only own Clara and the other character you don't recognise.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, that belongs to JK. I only own the characters you do not recognise and everything else unfamiliar to you.


End file.
